


Blue Rondo

by AlleiraDayne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Music, Office AU, Slow Dancing, lawyer!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 09:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21297215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: Natalie Murphy, music producer for famous jazz solo artist Alleira, brings a copyright issue to their lawyer, Sam Winchester.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	Blue Rondo

**Author's Note:**

> For SPN Fluff Bingo 2019, this fills the square Office AU.

“Got a minute?”

He had hardly heard her. Adrift in legalese, Sam Winchester had hardly heard her. After four hours of contract review, he had burned himself at both ends until there was nothing left. When he looked up from his desk to find Natalie Murphy standing in his doorway, he blinked to clear his vision as though she were some sort of mirage.

If mirages were made of pure sin. From head to toe and back again, he drank her in; jet black hair tumbled in curls over her shoulders framed by a fitted blouse, its narrow neckline plunging to showcase cleavage in which he had often wished to bury his face. Her pencil skirt hugged her hips and tapered down long legs, revealing strong calves and towering heels. It all fueled his imagination beyond his control. How long he had harbored salacious thoughts of her, Sam couldn’t be sure. Weeks at least, possibly months. The pertinent question there, however, was how much longer could he keep hiding the way he felt about her?

“Sam? You okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” he started with a shake of his head. “What’s up?”

She crossed the threshold as she stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I wanted to get your take on something Allie recorded today,” she said. “I’m a little worried.”

Sam pushed back from his desk and reclined in his chair. “Copyright?”

She grinned as she leaned back against his desk. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Can we listen to it together?”

He held out his hand as he turned to his receive and flipped the switch. “Sure.” When he turned back to find Natalie without any such recording, he dropped his hand into his lap. “Do you have a tape or a disc?”

A deep breath seemed to steady her nerves as though she was about to ask him of something important. “Not yet,” she said. “But I’ll have one by the end of the day. Are you busy tonight?”

He thought a moment. “No, I’m not. Why?”

Her brow rose and her eyes listed towards the ceiling as she took another deep breath. When she spoke, she withdrew her hands from her pockets. “I ah… I was… wondering… if you…”

Nervous fingers picked at a thread of a button on her blouse and her eyes had never made it back to his. What could be so important that she struggled to speak to him? He had never seen her so tongue-tied. In the music production business, Natalie’s loquaciousness and quick wit had yet to fail her.

It wasn’t until she fell silent that Sam understood. Defeated, her hands collapsed to her sides as her shoulders slumped and she seemingly gave up.

“Never mind. I’ll bring a tape by tomorrow morning.”

She pushed from his desk and turned for his door, but not before Sam leaped into action. From his chair he lunged for her hand and slipped his fingers into her palm. Natalie froze mid-stride and her hair whirled in an arc as she turned back into him, lured by his suggestive touch.

Sam smiled his best smile as he spoke. “I'm sorry,” he started. “Would you like to get together for dinner tonight?”

A million stars burst in her brilliant blue eyes. She seemed to gravitate to him, coaxed by his touch, his words. By the time she responded, Natalie pressed flush to his chest, and Sam slipped a hand to the small of her back.

“My place?”

He grinned. “Six o’clock?”

A smile of her own spread across her plush lips. “I’ll cook.”

“I'll bring wine?” he suggested.

“Hm,” she mused. “Syrah?”

Beautiful and smart. “I think I have a bottle of Chilean Syrah.”

She parted from him, and despite his most intense urge to grasp, to hold her closer and pin her to his desk, he loosened his grip. Her fingers slipped from his hand and she turned to his door.

“See you at six.”

* * *

Sam adjusted his tie as he approached her door at the end of the long hallway. When he switched the bottle of wine from one hand to the other, he cursed his shaking fingers and sweaty palms. He couldn't remember the last time he was nervous. About anything. Least of all, a date.

Then again, Sam hadn’t been on a date in years. Sure, he'd slept with plenty of people. But a date? Until Natalie, dating had not been a priority. Work had required most of his attention, if not all of it at times. If he was to be in a relationship, he wanted to give it the time and respect it deserved.

So deep in thought, Sam didn’t remember knocking on the door, or Natalie opening it. It was as though she had manifested before him, imagined to life by his wandering mind. And what a sight to behold. She had changed since the office, her blouse and skirt traded in for a beautiful black dress cinched at the waist by a golden belt. Golden earrings dangled to her jaw, and a long necklace of thin golden chains plunged between her breasts plainly visible in her scandalously revealing neckline.

“Hey.”

Sam shook his head as he cleared his mind of the more salacious thoughts running through it and handed over the bottle of wine. “You are gorgeous.”

She took the bottle from him and smiled. “Thank you,” she started, “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she added as her gaze listed to his waist and back. “Changed for me?”

He had, in fact. And he was glad he had. In the moment he had chastised himself for even considering dirtying another suit for a date. “I… thought you might appreciate it.”

“It’s a very nice suit,” she said as she turned into her apartment. “C’mon in. Stew will be ready in an hour. We can open this, let it breathe, and listen to that track while we wait.”

Sam followed her at a distance and stared at her backside as she walked. “Sounds good,” he sighed.

Too late, he found that she had caught him. Natalie peaked over her shoulder and drank him in from head to toe again. “So,” she started as she set the bottle on the counter and began to open it. “How long have you… felt this way? About me?”

He rounded the counter and picked a likely cupboard to find wine glasses. When he set them down beside the bottle, she shook her head as a sardonic smile spread across her lips. Velvety red liquid poured into each glass as Sam upended the bottle and said, “Longer than I care to admit.”

“Why didn't you say anything sooner?” she asked as she took her glass from him.

He opened his mouth to speak but her full lips poised on the rim of the glass stopped him short. A heartbeat stretched through the moment as she finished her drink, the all too appealing bob of her throat dizzying him.

“Sam?”

He shook his head. “Sorry,” he said as he ran his hand through his hair.

“Ogle all you like, no need to apologize,” she started as she turned to leave the kitchen. Another coy look over her shoulder beckoned him, and he followed. “Still want an answer to my question, though.”

She motioned beside her on the long chaise where she took a seat in the corner. As he sat before her, she kicked her heels from her feet and reclined. “So, why didn't you say anything sooner?”

“Why didn't you?”

She shrugged as she sipped from her glass. “I dunno. I assumed I wasn’t your… type.”

Type? He didn't realize he had a type. And even if he did, he assumed it extended to their personality as opposed to their looks. “You are my type. Brilliant, talented, funny.”

Natalie shook her head. “I've been to all the same signing and sales parties as you, Sam. And over the years, I've seen you leave every one of them with the same sort of vapid, self-absorbed person each time.”

Oh. It all made sense. “Sure, I sleep with shallow people. They sleep with me. That's… all it is. We both want the same thing, neither wanted a relationship. It's almost… transactional, really.”

She eyed him with a narrowed glare as if to see him better. “Then why are you here? Why agree to a date?”

“Because,” he started as he took her glass and set it on her coffee table alongside his. “You're my type. Not for a transaction. But for a more permanent situation.”

He stood and held out his hand to her. Without question, she took it, hers so small in his, and stood before him. “You wanted me to listen to something, right?”

Those wide blue eyes stared up at his as her lips parted to gape. The urge to touch her consumed him whole, and so he slipped his fingers into her hair just behind her ear and tenderly cupped her jaw. That simple touch coaxed her into him, melding the two together until his lips descended upon hers for a kiss so vulnerable, Sam shivered. It felt as though she poured every bit of herself into that connection, lingering on his lips as their tongues laved one another until she could no longer breathe. Yet, she remained, and Sam thanked God, his lucky stars, and any other divine grace that had put him in Natalie Murphy’s path.

After indeterminate seconds—minutes?—had passed, she parted from him, eyes wide and lips gaping. Drowned by the cerulean blue of her gaze, Sam floundered, his words lost on that coursing current of adoration in her stare.

As though she suddenly remembered where she was, Natalie turned and rushed to her stereo where she hurriedly started the recording. Sam followed her, slow steps bearing him across the living room to stand flush behind her.

“I think you'll notice it immediately,” she said as if they hadn’t just shared the kiss of a lifetime.

The sounds of the rhythm section picked up, a great, if off-beat groove. Sam offered his left hand to Natalie as the other wrapped around her waist. “I'm sure I will.”

Her hand slipped into his palm as she turned into him. “I'm not sure we can dance to this. It's in five.”

“I'm not asking you to do a Viennese waltz. Just sway with me a little,” he insisted.

Trepidation clouded her angular brow, but softened as he slipped his hand to the small of her back. And as the melody picked up, Sam swayed in time as best as he could. She had been right--not that he had doubted her. The recording was indeed in five, and so, he did his best to account for the odd beat. An easy turn, a slow spin, and a cross step spun them about her tiny living room in small circles. Natalie responded to his every suggestion as though she were an extension of him. A sway to the left, a step to the right, and then—

“Shit.”

Natalie jerked to a halt in his arms as he ended her spin. “What?”

“This sounds exactly like Take 5.”

Her laughter lilted as Natalie attempted to sing the melody to Take 5, all the similarities glaringly obvious. When the phrase finished, she stared at him expectantly, her small smile far too pleased. “Well?”

That smile hinted at everything she had left unsaid. So, Sam did what he did best. A single twist of their bodies spun them back to the chaise, their bodies flush as he settled atop her. “Since it’s seven o’clock at night on a Friday, I’m not going to worry about it until tomorrow.”

Her blue stare flicked between his eyes as he neared her lips, only to close the moment they touched. Between her thighs he settled his hips with a rolling grind as his tongue slipped between her lips to consume her once more. Soft and subtle sighs breathed through her nose, and Natalie clung to him, nails and knees alike. It wasn’t until the warm wet between her thighs soaked through the front of his suit pants that Sam parted from her.

The short hem of her dress had rucked up to her belly button to reveal a distinct lack of underwear.

“I stand corrected,” he stated.

Her knees pinned together as Natalie asked, “About?”

He pried her thighs apart as he lowered his head between them. “I’m not doing shit about the recording until Monday.”

Natalie sucked a breath through her nose as her hands delved into his hair. “Why?”

Sam started as he licked his lips as he glared from beneath his prominent brow.

“Because I’m going to be down here all fucking weekend.”


End file.
